Ah, ah, We come from the land of the ice snow, From the midnight sun where hot springs blow. Hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new land, To the horde, sing and cry: Valhalla, I am coming!
On we sweep with threshing oar, Our only goal be the western shore.
Ah, ah, We come from the land of ice and snow, From the midnight sun where the springs blow. How soft fields so green, can whisper tales of gore, Of how we calmed the tides of war. We young overlords.
On we sweep with threshing oar, Our goal will be the western shore.
So now you'd better stop and rebuild all your ruins, For peace and can win the day despite of all your losing.